


when a soul calls

by BeesKnees



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: AU, Alina and Mal stay in public life after the end of the war, But hey Kell and Alina become friends too, Crossover, Everyone else is along for the ride, Multi, Nikolai and Rhy are new best friends, Ravka and Arnes Crossover, Sorry Alina, Zoya/Nikolai if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: Why don't you bring your sun witch to meet my blood magician?Rhy Maresh, the new king of Arnes, invites Nikolai Lantsov, the new king of Ravka, to a visit.
Relationships: Alucard Emery/Rhy Maresh, Delilah Bard/Kell Maresh, Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	when a soul calls

_Why don't you bring your sun witch to meet my blood magician?_

The world has changed in all sorts of ways since Nikolai Lantsov became king. Now that Nikolai is responsible for a decent portion of it, it has become larger and smaller. He will never again have quite the freedom that he had when he was playing Sturmhond. He has _responsibilities_ now, as everyone in his court likes to remind him.

But, in turn, they are only able to remind him. No one can tell him that he can't head halfway across the world to visit Arnes. A new land – well, not precisely new, but new to them. It amazes him with all the types of technology and power they have that there are still lands unknown to one another. But here they are.

And here, in this case, is Arnes. A land with a young king who came into his throne in a time of war. Who fought off an ageless shadow king with the help of an orphaned magician with fabled powers. Who is now a king surrounded by secrets and stories of exactly what happened during that war.

There are plenty of advantages to meeting with the Arnesian throne, but if Nikolai is being honest – and he's quite good at being honest with himself – he's _curious._

King Rhy Maresh's charm and wit is clear even in the brief letters they've exchanged. (And if the rumors are to be believed, the king's lover is a pirate of former renown who used his unfavorable position to thwart his family and return home. What's not to _love_ about that backstory?)

He plans to go despite Zoya's and Genya's protests. He knows they'll come with him anyway. He expects that Alina will refuse. She has not _completely_ rebuffed public life, but she and Mal have certainly done all but. They run an orphanage outside the capital, and that seems to content them. If Nikolai didn't know better, he would have thought that the loss of summoning abilities was planned. People still came to worship at the feet of Sankta Alina, but without her powers, she's more human now. There will be no more miracles performed by Sankta Alina, no more Grisha armies to lead. This is the closest she will ever get to being human again.

When he tells her about Arnes, though, and the “Antari,” she says nothing for quite awhile. Without offering explanation as to why, she agrees. 

Perhaps, it's simply that she would also like to see more of the world. Perhaps, she likes the idea of traveling somewhere with Mal where they scarcely know who she is.

But, Nikolai thinks that her reason is more similar to his. They are surrounded by people who love them and care about them. They have support from all corners. But they are both of a kind that are rarely understood now – and Nikolai suspects that's even stronger for Alina than it is for him. She had someone who claimed to be made for her, to be her own equal, and she was forced to kill him. She never shows that she is lonely or regrets that decision. She is happy in her life with Mal. But when a soul calls, even from halfway across the world, with such likeness, it's hard not to answer.

For the first time since the Darkling fell, Alina dons Grisha robes. 

They – Nikolai, Genya, Zoya, Alina, and Mal, along with a limited retinue of servants – arrive in London to quiet fanfare. It's late when they make berth in the city, all of them dazzled by the red river – none moreso than Nikolai, who wishes desperately to bottle some and take it back to his labs and make a study of why the water is such a color.

He loves being king. He likes that he gets to help his people and make a difference in the way a ruler should make a difference. But, saints, he does miss being able to explore the world and fall in love with it for the sake of falling in love with it. He misses the _curiosity_ that came with being a “pirate.” He can explore whatever he likes now, but almost everything has to be for a purpose. 

The young Arnesian king is at the dock himself, surrounded by an equally small party. It isn't hard to spot him out: he's devastatingly beautiful in a way that Nikolai would have allowed himself to be more distracted by had they not both been kings. He stands in the middle of his party, warmth emanating from his figure. The gold of his crown shines bright in his burnished ringlets. His gaze moves instantly to Nikolai as well, and he smiles at him across the distance.

They disembark, Nikolai feeling heady after all the sea air and the promise of good company. He strides forward.

“Your majesty,” Nikolai says as he comes to a stop in front of Rhy. 

If anything, Rhy's grin grows a little larger and he steps in to _hug_ Nikolai rather than any of the formal practices they ought to exchange first.

As the person who is chiefly in charge of keeping his body safe, Zoya fumes behind them. 

“Nikolai,” Rhy says, pulling back, still beaming. “May I introduce Alucard Emery?” He gestures with one hand to the man on his left, who has the same dark skin as Rhy, but whose hair is far more unwieldy and is, perhaps, the more dangerously attractive of the pair. His skin is seared with lines of silver that Nikolai has already heard the stories of. Beneath his own gloves, he can feel the pull of the dark marks that mar his fingertips.

“And my brother,” Rhy says, now gesturing to the man on his right. “Kell.” The Antari stands out amongst them all. He's lanky to the point of almost being gangly and fair enough that he could could put a Fjerdan to shame. His red hair is a shock of brilliance even streaked with white in the front. 

“Your majesty,” Alucard says politely, giving a bow to Nikolai while Kell observes for a few seconds and then also half bows. Most people would probably not look into Kell and see Alina, but Nikolai does. He's searching for it, to be fair. But there's that stern judgement – weighing what each person is and could be instead of what position they hold no matter what trouble it might get them into. It's not precisely about a lack of décor. It's more about respect and the need to earn it. Nikolai is of the mind that Kell gives that no more easily than Alina.

There is a small, dark-haired girl who is standing beside Kell but she goes without introduction for some reason. Her energy indicates, though, that she is more than just a member of the staff. She is _someone_ to this royal family even if her presence goes unexplained. 

Nikolai offers his own introductions in turn.

“Zoya Nazyalensky and Genya Safin,” Nikolai says, gesturing to them, “two-thirds of my Grisha triumvirate and, alas, all of my common sense.” Zoya sniffs as if the latter fact is too true to her liking but she bows to the new king nonetheless. Nikolai feels blessed in that he has Genya as part of his triumvirate, because she can always be counted on for a warmer introduction – which she does now, smiling and complimenting the Arnesian group in turn. 

She's brief, though, because she knows they're honored to meet her, but they're not here _to_ meet her.

“And,” Nikolai continues impishly, looking forward to irritating most of his Grisha with the following words, “Sankta Alina Starkov, our Sun Summoner. And her boyfriend, Malyen Oretsev.” 

Alina stands stiffly near Mal, perhaps half tempted to hide behind him. She may have become adept at inspiring people to follow in her name, but she still doesn't like court “performances” and has retreated as far into being a hermit as she has been able to manage. 

“I could introduce you like that, see, Kell,” Rhy says, amused to his brother. 

Of course Kell doesn't like the attention either, Nikolai figures. Kell half scowls at Rhy, seemingly still somewhat mindful of the fact that they're in public. Despite that, he steps forward toward Alina and offers her his arm. 

“Lady Alina,” he says – in a way that seems like less of a greeting to Alina and more of an opportunity to be obstinate in the face of Nikolai and Rhy's games. Alina accepts, and funnily enough, it's the two of them who lead their small group back to the Arnesian palace. 

Rhy gestures that Nikolai should follow and the two boy kings follow after the magicians that remade their worlds and broke themselves in turn.

…

“What do you think of them?” Rhy asks. It's quite late. He was certain that he could have spent the rest of the night talking with their guests, but he knows Nikolai's party has traveled far, so there had just been making sure everyone was taken to their rooms and given anything they needed before rest. 

Rhy stands in front of the window in his room that overlooks over the Isle as he takes off his crown and rings. He still falls in love with this view of London even if it's tinged with pain now. He'll likely never be able to look at the river again without seeing the way its waters had turned black. Such is his memory now. He still loves the world more than he does not, but there are so many things that are painful to think of and on now. 

Behind him, Alucard is already in their bed, hair down and shirt off. 

Alucard would never let him do anything if he believed it would truly endanger him, and that includes inviting Ravka's king. But he knows that Alucard is a little worried about this trip – because Alucard has told him so. It's a smart political move, but Alucard worries that Rhy is looking for something he simply isn't going to find halfway across the world. Rhy knows he might be right.

Rhy also knows Alucard is thinking of that when he answers.

“They seem like a good company,” Alucard nods. He pauses and then adds, clearly goading, “Their king is quite handsome.”

“But not as handsome as me, right?” Rhy says, turning back toward Alucard with a smile. 

Alucard shrugs in a lazy way that is clearly intended to continue to tease. But Rhy knows the truth, and that's why Rhy loves him. They are beyond such petty games and exist only in comfort with one another now. There are still many ways they have to grow together, but trust is no longer one that Rhy worries about.

“What _do_ they look like?” Rhy asks, crawling into bed beside Alucard. Alucard wraps his arms around him automatically and hums.

“The king has no magic as he's said,” Alucard murmurs. “Zoya's magic is perhaps most like ours, but hers looks more … turbulent? Charged? Like how the air might look on a summer day before it's about to storm. Genya's is entirely different. I'm not sure I have the words to describe it in a way that makes sense.”

“And Alina's?” Rhy asks. He knows that Nikolai has said her powers are gone, and Rhy believes that, but he still wants to know what Alucard's eyes see. 

Alucard is quiet.

“Like a candle that has guttered,” Alucard answers finally. “You can see something was once there.” He hesitates. “The boy – Mal – he has a touch of that too. I don't understand it quite yet, but there was something there that no longer is.”

Rhy lays his head down on Alucard's chest.

“Like Kell,” he says quietly. The thing that none of them discuss yet because his brother has not brought it up. But Alucard had mentioned it not long after the fight – that there was a shattering change in Kell's magic. Once Alucard mentioned it, Rhy could physically see the changes in Kell. His brother had never been frivolous with his magic but he had been comfortable with it. Now, he's hesitant. 

“No,” Alucard corrects, trailing his fingertips across Rhy's back. “If I were to use the same metaphor, I would say that Kell flickers now. Whatever Alina lost, it was more than your brother.” 

…

“Well,” Mal says as he takes the fine blankets off the finer bed so that they can sleep comfortably in the floor, “at least we know no one is going to try and marry you.” 

“Oh?” Alina asks, amused. “Were you worried about that?”

“I know Nikolai knows better now,” Mal says. “But I don't know this new king. I was worried I might have to stave off a new proposal. On his behalf or his blood magician's.” 

“And you don't think I'm up to snuff for either of them?” Alina asks, braiding her hair and still watching him with obvious humor.

“That's right,” Mal answers, and Alina throws a pillow at him. 

He bats it away, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Kell is with that girl,” Mal says. “The one on the dock. Her name is Lila. She's apparently the other Antari here and also a former pirate?” 

“Aren't we the boring ones,” Alina says, flopping down in the makeshift bed he has made for them. “And aren't you still the friendly one.” 

“That's not the only thing she told me,” Mal says. He settles down beside her, pulling his shirt off over his head.

“Oh?” Alina asks.

“Apparently the Maresh brothers had quite the laugh at your expense.” He kisses her neck and then murmurs into her ear, as if speaking poetry, “Apparently 'sankt' is quite the curse word around here. So, you being a 'sankta' is really something special.”

Alina laughs and pushes him off.

…

Alina worries. She agreed to this, yes. She doesn't regret it, _yet_. But it's a simple truth that she has never been at ease with other people as Nikolai or Mal. Or Genya. Or saint's help her, even Zoya. Zoya can get away with being wickedly mean to people, and a good chunk of them find that to be a delight. Alina knows she'll never be pretty or confident enough to pull that move off. 

As she lies next to Mal in the dark, listening to the comforting sound of his breathing, she suspects that this trip will go one of two ways: either it will be an endless stream of parties and public events, which means a ceaseless amount of people. Or, they will likely stick her in a corner with Kell Maresh and the two of them will be expected to bond, befriend each other, and heal the other's respective wounds.

Each is a nightmare in its own right to her. 

She wishes that she could say that she agreed simply for Nikolai. That she knows he fears that shadows that he casts. There was hope in his gaze when he spoke of another king across the sea who might have the same nightmares as him. She would move heaven if it would mean lightening the burden Nikolai carries with him as a result of what the Darkling did to him. So, yes, a trip across the sea is a small price to pay for a glimpse of hope.

But she knows that's not the complete truth. 

Like calls to like, and Alina heard Kell calling her. 

It sounds stupid. She can't imagine saying it aloud to anyone, especially a strange magician she just met. So, like many other times in her life, she's not quite sure what to do with the pieces she's holding. 

She doesn't sleep well and Genya begs to be able to erase some of the dark circles under her eyes and spends the morning pouting when Alina refuses. What can she say? She's worn enough masks already. The beautiful Maresh brothers will just have to contend with her grim-faced visage.

During breakfast, though, things take a turn she doesn't exactly expect. They are to stay together as a group for most of the day, starting with a stroll around the Arnesian gardens, heading back down to the dock so that Alucard can satisfy whatever questions Nikolai has, and then a trip out to the famous market of London. 

A limited amount of new faces that she will be expected to remember and Mal will be by her side the entire time. Perfect.

Alina sits across from Kell during breakfast, and she finds one more similarity with the Antari as Genya begins obsessing over the color of Kell's hair. It's a darker red than her own, and she insists on matching the shade the best she can to bring back with her. Kell clearly doesn't know what to do with the attention. Lila is clearly amused. 

While last night, it hadn't been obvious that Lila was an Antari, today her eye is all black, just like Kell's. Alina must look at it too frequently, because Lila finally says, “It's glass.” 

“What happened to it?” Alina asks without thinking. 

“Your guess is good as mine,” Lila says, grinning wryly over at Kell as she answers. “It must have happened when I was pretty young. Or maybe I was born without it?” She shrugs. “But probably not. Probably, someone saw it turn black and thought they would spare me some trouble.”

Kell snorts. 

“As if you've ever avoided trouble once in your life,” he says. It's with a teasing familiarity that softens Alina a little. She has been nervous about being around a magician who is reportedly standoffish (she knows the irony of that statement, okay?). But, now that she's been around them for more than a few minutes, it's clear how much Kell cares about Lila.

When he realizes that he's drawn her attention, he blushes faintly and then dedicates himself back to his breakfast. 

“To tragic orphans with mysterious origins,” Mal says. He raises a glass of tea and Alina, Kell, and Lila drink to that. 

…

The day isn't as awkward as Alina worried. Alina suspects that Lila is much like Mal in that, when they want to, they can easily charm anyone. They pair off quite naturally, and Alina, several times, overhears them discussing sword technique. 

Nikolai and Rhy are inseparable, excitedly trading stories and ideas back and forth at such rapid fire that scarcely anyone can keep up with them. Alucard manages when he wants to, and Genya interjects every now and then. Zoya sometimes will make a scathing comment, usually regarding Nikolai's behavior. 

Alucard tends to chat amicably with both Genya and Zoya, mostly discussing their respective magics. (Occasionally, swapping stories of protecting kings who have a penchant for trouble and big dreams.)

That, unsurprisingly, leaves Alina with Kell for most of the day. She is content to primarily listen to the others, cobbling together bits of Arnesian culture through what she hears. It is also a comfort that she and Kell can simply be quiet together. They stroll mostly at the back of the group, and Kell will occasionally point out a site of interest wherever they are. 

Alina is able to observe an obvious shift in his posture when they are nearer to crowds. He stiffens, shoulders back, hands almost nervous at his sides. She understands. She hates being in front of groups, but she also knows that she has come far past this blatant awkwardness. Her ability to win a war had been somewhat based on her being able to at least fake some charm and command. And what better teachers than Nikolai Lantsov and the Darkling when it comes to those traits? 

But some people are nervous around him in a way that she doesn't think she's ever seen anyone be nervous around her. People are aware of her power – what was her power. But she doesn't think that any large group has ever shifted around her like she might snap unexpectedly at any moment. 

She wonders if that's because he _is_ a danger or if that's simply how they've always been around his magic. 

“Why are they scared of you?” Alina asks rather bluntly. 

Kell half looks at her. If he's offended by the question, he doesn't say. He's quiet for a moment.

“Some of them have always been,” Kell answered. “Antari are rare and not well understood, and what's not well understood...” He trailed off for a moment. “But a great, dark magic nearly ate this world alive and not all of them are sure how I was connected to it.” He smiles sardonically. Something about that smile makes Alina wonder if _he_ also isn't entirely sure of his connection to that magic. 

“You grew up in a land where so many were afraid of you for what you were,” Alina murmurs. “That must have been lonely.” Her thoughts stray to Aleksander. They do. Often. Her mind and heart are still a jumbled mess when it comes to make sense of what she thinks and feelings about the boy who was at the center of the Darkling. 

The comparison flags, though. The Darkling was always hungry for power. Kell doesn't seem as if he particularly cares about it. 

He shrugs in response to her comment.

“I had Rhy,” he answers. 

Alina smiles a little as she spots Mal in front of them. She understands this. Being saved from a lonely childhood by the certainty of a single person. 

“How,” Kell starts to ask. He hesitates for a moment, but his curiosity obviously gets the better of him: “How do people in Ravka react to you?”

Alina hums. She doesn't know if she would normally like to answer this question, but she doesn't know of another person who would ask it in a situation like this. 

She meets his eye.

“Now?” she says. “Now, I think they're disappointed a lot of the time. Now, I think they're confused. Saints are much easier to worship when they're dead, I'm told.” There's a grim satisfaction in that, at least. She has done the important thing she has needed to do, and she can somehow lessen her own myth by leading a simple life.

“It's harder when they've outlasted their miracles and are being difficult and dating childhood sweethearts. I make them get used to me now.

“But, before?” Before her miracles, before her powers were gone, before the end of their war. “Not so much scared as … enthralled, I think. Maybe some fear at the end, but I think at the beginning more people were just interested in figuring out how to harness my power. And making sure that other people didn't get a hold of it. They didn't really care about who I was underneath that. They just wanted a symbol.” 

Kell smiles in that odd, pained way of his again.

“That's what Rhy's father was always worried about with me,” Kell answers, “that someone else would come along and take me from them.”

“How did you they get you from your birth family?” Alina asks, her confusion at such an ironic statement obvious.

Kell shrugs. 

“I don't know,” he says. “I don't know what happened to them, and it's unlikely I'll ever find out now.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Do you know?” Kell asks. “What happened to your family? And do you care?”

“I don't have any memory of them,” Alina admits. “So it's hard to care. Mal is the only family I've ever known.” 

They're both quiet. There's some understanding there that neither of them can exactly put into words, a phantom tension of long-gone blood families and those currently loved. 

“People were more afraid of him,” Alina offers, her voice soft enough that Kell can barely hear her.

“The Darkling,” he surmises. Their shadow magician. The antithesis to Alina. Alina's once mentor, once near partner.

“Yes,” Alina says. Kell suspects that she doesn't frequently speak of him to others. Unbidden, Kell thinks of Holland. He could never sum anything up with Holland simply, and he knows that Lila and Rhy don't understand the shades of nuance that he can still find with the other Antari. 

“But they were afraid of him because he seemed far removed from all of us,” Alina says. “Not just that he had a monstrous power. He was just … eternal. And people knew that he _would_ use his power ruthlessly if it so suited him.

“You're far more human, Kell,” Alina offers to him, an absolution. She smiles faintly. “He would have never done all this unless there was some political and powerful reason for it.” 

“Are we not playing politics right now?” Kell asks, amused. 

Alina snorts. 

“Our kings wanted to be friends,” Alina says, spying the boyish glee on Nikolai's face as Rhy explains something to him. “I think that's a great deal less than the usual politics we're both used to.” 

“Fair enough,” Kell relents, and Alina can sense him soften as he observes the eagerness with which Rhy is speaking to Nikolai. 

“You knew him, didn't you?” Kell asks quietly, surprising himself with his boldness in following this line of questioning. “The Darkling? You were close?”

Alina's face goes blank for a moment as if she's in so much pain that the only way she can deal with it is to hide entirely. 

“Yes,” she says after a breath. “He was very good at making people feel close to him when they were useful to him.” It's one of those strange contradictions of surviving him. She knows that's true – he built a Grisha army based on the way he could enthrall people. Alina has learned since that the Darkling told Zoya the same thing he told her, once: you and I are going to change the world.

What a wildly intimate idea. How funny that he had said it hundred of time before Zoya showed up at his palace and then Alina. 

Still, Alina knows there were moments between them that were more real than not. Perhaps he believed it each time he told a new, young Grisha. Maybe he believed it most when he said it to Alina Starkov, the only Sun Summoner he had ever found in his long life. 

“You didn't know your dark king, did you?” Alina returns. “He was from one of these other Londons?”

“Black London,” Kell confirms. “The lost London. So, no. He was more … an idea of power and magic than a man to us, I think.”

Alina looks off.

“That is what the Darkling would have worked his way toward, eventually, I think,” Alina says. “Once he stopped caring about people entirely and there was only the power and his want of it left.” 

Kell hesitates. He knows, of course, that his experience is so different and yet--

“There was another Antari, though,” Kell says. “From White London. Who allowed Osaron into our London.” 

Alina looks back at him, and he can see that flicker of understanding. That knowing of how it hurts to be continually against the only other person who experiences the world through the same lens of power and magic that you do. It wasn't a simple thing. 

“The funny thing is I looked up to him when I was really young,” Kell says with a hint of bite. “Not that he was someone particularly admirable. Just that he was the only Antari I had ever known. I wanted to befriend him so badly and he was so … utterly disinterested and disappointed by me.” 

Unexpectedly, Alina reaches out and takes his hand gently in hers. 

He is not the Darkling. They will never amplify and twine with one another. But their hurt hearts match. She sees him for his and can look without flinching. 

In turn, Kell allows himself to be comforted. He holds Alina's hand back.

...

Nikolai cannot sleep so Nikolai wanders. There is something calming to wandering a strange palace. In Ravka, his guards are always so aware of him. Well, they are here – but here he's a stranger. He's observed in a different way than when he is _the_ king.

Here, there is new artwork to observe and the constant soft glow of the red river below. It's enough to occupy his mind, to keep his thoughts from chasing after demons that are barely held at bay as it is. 

He's invested enough that he hardly realizes he has company until he's nearly upon the other person.

Rhy Maresh. Apparently also roused from his bed, sleepless. He's clad in a lovely red dressing robe that Nikolai thinks he'd rather like the pattern to – perhaps a royal blue for him, though. He doesn't think he'll ever pull of red quite as well as Rhy. 

Nikolai is dressed slightly more conservative but he realizes he's gone out without his gloves. He doesn't usually sleep with them, and he hadn't anticipated company this evening. Still. It's dark. He keeps his hands at his sides. 

“That's my great-great grandfather,” Rhy says, gesturing lazily at the painting that Nikolai is standing in front of. “Or maybe great-great-great?” He furrows his brow, wrinkles his nose, and then lazily shrugs one shoulder.

It's enough to cause his robe to open a little more, revealing some of the concentric scar over his heart. Without meaning to, Nikolai sees. 

Rhy follows his line of sight and then adjusts his robe a little. 

“From Osaron,” Rhy says. And while he tries to apply a light tone, Nikolai recognizes that guardedness underneath the words. It makes him sad to see this paired hurt in the golden king he has come to know. 

“They say he nearly killed you,” Nikolai says. 

“Yes,” Rhy answers. “He did.” There's no additional story forthcoming, so Nikolai knows that whatever secret is there, he won't hear it tonight. He understands. Were he not a king, he'd probably tell Rhy the whole sordid story, of the possession, of the hurt and guilt, and uncertainty that still follows it all. But that secret is also a king's secret, and it is enough to topple a kingdom that is still unsteady. A friend could tell another friend who has been hurt in the same way. A king must tell no one not when that king's crown was won and worn by so many. 

Rhy hesitates.

“Go ahead,” Nikolai prompts. 

Rhy mimics Nikolai: “They say you have a nickname in Ravka. _Korol Rezni._ ” His pronunciation is amazing, Nikolai notes dully. 

And since Rhy has shown him his, Nikolai shows his own. He raises his hands, showing the blackened, scarred ends of his fingers. 

Rhy reaches for one hand as if to take it, and then seems to realize the familiarity with which he is reacting and draws back. 

“They also say that these came from the Darkling torturing you,” Rhy says quietly. It's no longer a question, but an apology of sorts.

“Yes,” Nikolai answers. It's strange how the truth can still feel like a lie.

They stand in the quiet for a few more moments.

“Do you ever worry,” Rhy asks, voice barely audible, “that they took too much?” 

“I worry that too much of them was left behind,” Nikolai answers, tired. 

This night, it's the closest they will come to the truths. Perhaps another, Nikolai thinks. Perhaps there will be a time when their truths will not matter so much, will no longer be a danger or a threat. Perhaps that will be a time when Nikolai Lantsov can tell Rhy Maresh what it was he went through. But that's not for tonight.

Rhy pulls away, clearing his throat.

“I believe you're being retrieved,” he says, voice becoming his own again, a touch of mischief there. Nikolai looks over his shoulder and is unsurprised to see Zoya standing just in the entrance of the room. He never doubts that she will find him wherever he is. He also doesn't doubt that she heard the entire conversation. 

“I think I'm in trouble,” Nikolai faux whispers. 

“I don't think I can help you with that,” Rhy says, still looking at Zoya, his laughter lines back.

“I would help you with _yours_ ,” Nikolai answers.

“Mine isn't actually in charge,” Rhy answers. He winks and heads away from Nikolai. 

…

Genya and Zoya stand at the bow of the ship as they make berth. Genya is pleased with her new collection of colors, grown with the help of Alucard Emery. 

Zoya is relieved that no state secrets have been shared during this trip. Underneath that, she is glad that some of the tension has loosened from Nikolai's shoulders. She is wary of the Mareshes and Arnes in the way that she is wary of anything and everything when it comes to Nikolai and Ravka. But even she can appreciate seeing some of Nikolai's light coming back into him. She has been sure all along that he would find his footing and continue to heal. Only he has doubted himself in that, and in moments like these, Zoya knows that she is right. When is she not?

So, perhaps, this trip was well worth it – worth the grey hairs she has developed at its expense. 

“That wasn't so bad,” Genya comments as she waves down to the Maresh brothers. 

“I suspect we'll be back,” Zoya answers.


End file.
